


"The Midnight Flower" Continued

by aeronwyn



Series: Extended Scenes from The Mortal Instruments [1]
Category: The Mortal Instruments (Movies), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Book 1: City of Bones, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, some light drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeronwyn/pseuds/aeronwyn
Summary: After Clary and Jace come down from the greenhouse, they stop in front of her bedroom door. That’s when Simon finds them, and suddenly two relationships are torn apart (one scarcely after it began). But what if they had handled things a little differently?All characters, settings, & etc. belong to Cassandra Clare.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is about a scene that appears in the book and in the movie, but not in the TV series, so if you're only following the show it might be a bit weird out of context.  
> Kind of a fix-it fic? That scene just bothered me so much when I first read it because of how goddamn preventable the whole debacle was. I mean come on, guys. A little communication would be nice. Just a *little*. Please.
> 
> ALSO: I will say, in the book she's 16, in the movie she's 18- personally I prefer the movie on that score; I think it makes things much more believable and comfortable. This does have sexual undertones, though I would say that nothing much actually happens- so I didn't use the "underage" archive warning, but if you're especially sensitive on that topic, then be advised.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, comments are welcome!

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I’ve never been more awake.” Jace’s voice was lower and softer than Clary had ever heard it. His hand brushed a stray curl out of her eyes and lingered there on her cheek as he leaned in to press a light kiss to her lips. The gentle heat coursing through her lips, her cheek, her hand—everywhere his skin met hers—commanded her attention. She could almost feel the electricity arcing between them, the irresistible longing that such a chaste touch provoked. But even as she felt his lips part, and his fingers curl around the back of her neck to pull her closer, she froze—her bedroom door had flown open, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar figure emerging. She jumped back, her hands suddenly clasped behind her back, like a child hiding a stolen sweet. Jace had started too, his hands still raised.

“Simon! You’re— I mean—”

“You thought I was asleep? Yeah. I mean I woke up and you were gone so I—but it doesn’t matter, obviously.” Simon’s eyes were wide, his hands were twitching, his voice just a little higher and faster than usual. “I don’t know why I came over here in the first place, actually, come to think of it, like, what was I expecting? You’ve got a new life and a new—boy toy, apparently—”

“Boy toy? You don’t know the first thing about—” Jace spat the words back at him incredulously, his eyes darting from Simon to Clary and then back again. Clary met his eyes with an uncomfortable grimace and a shake of the head, trying to say without words _don’t listen, he’s just exhausted, he didn’t mean that, it’s not what it looks like_. The light in his eyes had gone dark and cold, the softness hidden once again behind protective walls.

“—and who am I kidding, why would you even want me around tonight? We’re not kids in a treehouse anymore, playing scrabble all night and falling asleep at 7AM in the same bed—no, that would be weird, because we’re older and it’s not—it’s not like that—”

 “Not like what? Simon, you’re… What’s going on? You’re babbling.” Clary approached him, one hand outstretched, still exchanging darting, concerned looks with Jace. _Please don’t leave, just let me sort this out, I’m sorry, please don’t misunderstand_. He looked back with uncertainty, an expression that sat oddly on his face, furrowing his brow in a way Clary had never seen.

 “Babbling? No. No I’m—and it’s not like—we’re not… you know…” Simon looked between the two, struggling to speak.

 “Just spit it out. What’s the deal?” Jace’s arms were crossed now, and his confused glance had transformed into a glare, directed straight at Simon.

He straightened his glasses and let out a short, sharp laugh. “I guess I thought I knew where we stood, Clary. I thought—after all these years? Seriously? You still don’t know?” He let out another one of those laughs. It made Clary distinctly uncomfortable.

“I… What?”

“He’s in love with you. There, I said it for you, mundane, since you don’t seem capable of stringing the words together yourself.” Jace was avoiding Clary’s gaze now, she felt sure of it. “That right?

“Simon, is that… are you…” Clary couldn’t even say it herself. The prospect was too bizarre—surely he couldn’t be. He made some sort of unpleasant sound, somewhere between a laugh and a snort, and glanced down at his feet.

“Well. I guess that answers that question. I can see I’ve outstayed my welcome. I’ll be on my way.” Simon took one step forward, then paused, and looked at Clary one more time. “Please… don’t call me for a day or two.” And just like that, he was gone, off down the hallway. She should call after him, set things right—Clary knew that—but she was frozen, staring at the doorway where he had been only moments before.

 _Simon? In love with me? Me?_ The thought was neither pleasing nor repulsive—at the moment, it was beyond comprehension. The sound of a long, loud exhale drew her out of her reverie. Jace met her sudden glance upward. His face was blank, but his shoulders were hunched forward ever so slightly.

“Well,” he said, but then seemed at a loss for words.

“What the hell.” Clary shook her head. “Is he really… How did I miss that?” She turned and went into her room, still in a slight daze. Simon’s parting words echoed in her mind— _Please… don’t call me for a day or two_. She found herself standing beside the bed, her back to the door. Her sketchbook lay open to the drawing of Jace with his wings. _Simon must have opened it_ , she was dimly aware. A hand lighted on her shoulder, and she glanced over to see Jace standing beside her, and the door swinging shut with a soft thud

“You okay?” Uncertainty lurked behind his eyes and in his tone. Clary sighed.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just… he’s my friend. We grew up together. I never… I mean I care about him but… I don’t even know how to approach… that prospect with him. I think I hurt him pretty bad.” Jace gave her shoulder a reassuring caress.

“If he’s a true friend, it’ll work itself out. It’s obvious that he values you—and your friendship. He’s done some pretty gutsy stuff for a mundane. And he’s done it for your sake. You know that, don’t you?” Try as he might, Jace couldn’t prevent the slight unsteadiness that rippled through his voice. Swallowing his pride wasn’t easy.

“I suppose so. Yeah. I’ll… I’ll give him a day or two. Like he said. And then… I mean I’m sure we can patch things up. Yeah.” She said it out loud as much to convince herself as for anything else, and then lapsed into silence. Jace cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded a little delicate.

“So, you don’t… you’re really not…”

Clary turned to face him. “I’m not interested in being with him, if that’s what you’re asking.” The muffled “hmm” that emerged from his tightly closed lips, and the relief that flickered across his face almost made her laugh. “Wait… Were you jealous? Jace Wayland, jealous?” She couldn’t suppress a smile. There was something flattering about the prospect, it had to be said. He cleared his throat again and tossed his hair.

“Well, I… You know, I just wanted to be sure.” His eyes slid away from hers, searching for something, anything, to draw her attention away from his moment of—well, he would have called it _weakness_ , but Clary would have called it _humanity_. They came to rest on the sketchbook. “Is that _me_?” He reached out a hand towards it and Clary darted forward, cheeks turning still more crimson with every passing second.

“Oh that’s nothing, don’t—“ she snatched it off the bed and held it close against her chest. “Just some doodling. Nothing.”

“Really?” It was Jace’s turn to poke a little fun at her. “It looked like a pretty flattering likeness, from what I saw.” Clary scowled up at him.

“It’s none of your business."

“Come on— If not the sake of my vanity, then at least for my curiosity? About you? I know you love art, but I’ve not really seen any of your work.” He placed his hands on Clary’s upper arms and looked into her eyes. “You don’t have to. I know it’s… private. But I… I really do want to get to know you, Clary Fray.” He stooped and pressed a kiss to her temple. “All of you.” These last words ghosted across to her ear, low, warm, sending tingles down her spine. Her eyes found his as he withdrew, seated himself on the edge of the bed, and began unlacing his boots. Clary peeked at the sketch again, and decided. _Take a risk_ , she said to herself. And besides, it was pretty good work, even by her own standards. Clary joined him on the bed, their legs and bare feet just brushing, and set the sketchbook down across both their laps, allowing it to fall open to that page. Jace’s arm slid around her back, and she found herself leaning ever so slightly against his supportive weight. In some show of self-control and affection, his eyes had not yet left her face, had not darted down to the drawing. Clary smiled at him, then nodded toward the portrait.

“Yes. Yes, it is you. Uh, with wings. I don’t know, it just sort of came to me, after the rooftop at the Hotel DuMort."

“Huh.” Jace lifted the book with a delicate hand, trying not to smudge the graphite on the page. “Clary, this is…” He looked back at her. “This is really good. You even got the runes right. And the shading—that’s the right term, I think?—on my back looks so real.” She blushed a little.

“Thank you.”

“And, you know, it’s funny, the… well, the wings, they’re—they’re like angels’ wings, of course, with the feathers. Nephilim, and all that."

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so. Like I said, I didn’t really think about it much. They just sort of happened.” Clary ran one light finger over the wings, smoothing out a stray pencil mark she had just spotted. “I’m glad you like it. Portraiture is always a little risky. People can be so touchy about it. Which I understand, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Jace nodded, and stifled a yawn as he returned the sketchbook to his lap.

“‘Never been more awake,’ huh?” Clary said, with a laugh and a light elbow jab to the ribs. He winced.

“Hey, watch it. I’ve still got some sore spots.” His nose wrinkled in the ghost of a mock-pout—it was dreadfully endearing.

“My apologies.” Clary found herself smiling up at him again.

“But, as for being awake, well,” Jace turned to face her, his voice dropping lower in pitch and volume, “it has been a little while since that kiss. It was quite… invigorating.” His eyes wandered over her face, admiring (not for the first time) her delicate features and the soft curls of her hair, which shone in the dim lamplight.

“Hmmm. Yes, it was.” Clary glanced at his lips, remembering with a thrill the way they felt pressed against her own. This time, it was she who leaned in first, brushing her nose against his, tucking back a stray lock of golden hair that had fallen into his eyes, and guiding his face towards her. The sensation of Jace’s touch was overwhelming.

The sketchbook fell to the ground, unnoticed, as Jace reached his free hand across to rest on Clary’s waist, his index finger brushing against the centimeter of exposed skin between her tank top and shorts. She felt that electrified space between them once more, and sought to close it, sliding into the crook of his shoulder. Jace’s hand came up to frame her face, his fingertips ghosting along her side, his palm and thumb skimming her breast so lightly that it could almost be called an accident, even as his other arm curved diagonally across her back to hold her closer. His heartbeat pounded against her chest, fast but strong and steady, like his breath. That gentle heat, that power tempered by unexpected softness—it all came flooding back, just like in the greenhouse, in the doorway.

Jace stood up and brought Clary to her feet, bending down a little more so as not to lose the kiss. He set his hands on her waist and pulled her in against his body with what felt like an appreciative sigh. Clary’s fingers were entwined in his hair, her hips pressing ever tighter against his. She felt him growing hard, beginning to strain against the worn fabric of his jeans, and graced him with a few gentle sways of her hips. He broke the kiss to take a heavy breath or two, his eyes still half-closed, and Clary seized the opportunity to plant a kiss on his neck. His hands caressed her, one remaining on her lower back to hold her body flush against his, the other making that same trailing journey up from her waist, though this time his palm lingered on her breast, pressing it longingly through her tank top and bra, before at last coming up to cradle her neck. It was as if his fingers left their heat behind wherever they touched her. She brought one hand down to toy with the hem of his shirt, running her fingertips along the lean muscles of his abdomen and lower back. He was positively throbbing against her, and she could feel his chest rising and falling with vigor in time with hers. He left her lips and began laying adoring, hungry kisses along her neck and shoulder. Clary sighed. It was ecstasy, feeling Jace against her like this. _At last, at last, at last,_ her entire body sang. The kisses paused, and Clary opened her eyes to see Jace, his eyes tinted with that same passion that had fueled his kisses.

“Do you want to…” He nodded in the direction of her bed and wet his lips. Clary blinked, and hesitated. Was it too soon? Was she even thinking straight? Jace took that pause as his answer. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Never mind.” He stepped back a little so he could look more directly at her face, though he kept his hands on her back and neck. “I don’t want to rush you.” Clary sighed again, and turned her head to plant a kiss on the hand that rested against her cheek.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… this has all happened so fast. And I have so much on my mind right now. I—”

“No need to explain.” Jace said, running his thumb tenderly along her cheek. “I’m patient. I can wait.” He kissed her forehead by way of reassurance, and received in exchange a gentle smile.

“Thanks. Wow. I really am tired.” Now that the endorphin rush was subsiding, she was forcibly reminded the physical and emotional fatigue of the last 24 hours. Her legs, her back, her arms, her heart—they all ached.

“Yeah. Me too,” Jace confessed, “though I wasn’t lying when I said I was awake before.”

“I know.” Clary smirked, allowing herself a lingering glance down at Jace’s groin before meeting his eyes once more. “You keep your stele in your jacket pocket, not your jeans.” He looked almost taken aback, and burst out with a laugh—one that was somehow different from his usual one; lighter and softer. He cupped her face with both hands, and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Clary Fray.” He said her name slowly, as if savoring it, and though her eyes were closed, she could tell he was smiling. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” Clary brought one hand up to rest on his, and other still at his waist. They stood so for a few long moments, almost motionless.

At last, it was Jace who stepped back. “Well, I suppose I’d better let you get some sleep. We’ll have a long day tomorrow.” He stooped and retrieved the fallen sketchbook. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Clary took it and looked up at him.

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” Jace smiled, and sat down on the edge of the bed again to put on his shoes. Clary watched him for a moment until, on impulse, she spoke again.“Wait.”

“What is it?”

Clary wet her lips to speak, a nervous habit she’d picked up from her mother. She set the sketchbook down on her bedside table and moved over to stand beside him, her fingertips coming to rest on his shoulder. “You, uh… You can stay the night, if you want. I mean, I know we haven’t… But it might be nice anyway.” Jace smiled.

“I would like nothing better. These beds are a bit lonely sometimes.” Clary smiled back, and stepped aside to allow Jace to rise. “Might I make use of your bathroom?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s right through there.” Jace thanked her, and deposited his boots by the bedroom door on the way. As the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, Clary smiled to herself. _How did this even happen? This is almost too good to be true._ She crossed to her dresser and swapped out her tank top and bra for a soft t-shirt. Then, climbing into bed and slipping beneath the covers, she closed her eyes quite by accident, falling almost instantly into a doze. The weight of Jace’s body falling on to the other side of the bed woke her. He had already switched off the lamp, and the room was cool and dark except for a few beams of city light peeking in through the blinds. She rolled over to face him. His features were shadowed but already familiar, as were the runes on his now bare chest.

“Are you a back or side sleeper?” He asked, voice low and drowsy.

“Mm. Side. You?”

“Back. C’mere.” She snuggled up against his torso, resting her head on his chest, sighing with contentment as his arm cradled her body. Warm lips pressed against her forehead. “Goodnight, Clary.”

“Goodnight, Jace.”


End file.
